


I Don't Have Your Name

by AlexanderPeterson



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Brainwashing, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, M/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6393502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderPeterson/pseuds/AlexanderPeterson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can give you everything he never could. ... I can give you a legacy. ... You will be the man that crushed the Revolution."</p><p>...<br/>After Alexander receives the news of the death of John Laurens, nothing makes sense. He needs a way out and finds that escape on a ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SailorSage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSage/gifts).



> My friend Sage is bribing me to write this. I'm so sorry. I'm a terrible human being and I'm not worthy of friendship.
> 
> I only touch on John's death for a minute but it's still not fun. (I'm recycling some of my own work here. I'm not ashamed. See also: 'No More Nightmares'. It just happened to have the right emotional pitch I was going for, for the beginning of this fic. I did have another beginning written up but it didn't feel right so I stole from my own fic and tacked on a different ending. Sue me.)
> 
> Again. This is not a happy fic. I don't do happy. I do horrible things that make people hate me. And I apologize.

XOXO

 

Alexander couldn't stop grinning. The weather was awful, he was exhausted, cold and hungry but he couldn't be in a better mood. John was coming back to New York after a stint in South Carolina soon. Seeing him would be a nice break from the monotony of everyday life that had settled around the camp.

“Are you coming out with us, _mon petit lion_?” Lafayette asked, poking his head into Alexander's tent.

“I'll be out in a minute.” He smiled, turning back to his desk, a half finished letter to John under his quill.

“You look like a love struck puppy Alexander.” Lafayette laughed. “But happy looks good on you _mon ami_.”

“Thanks Laf.”

 

After a few beers Alexander was laughing again. He hadn't laughed in a long time. Loudly proclaiming that he was in love while a mortified Lafayette tried to cover his mouth before he shouted out the name of his so called love while Mulligan laughed, slapping his hand against the table.

“He's going to be found out.” Lafayette hissed. “Do you want that?” Mulligan tried to stifle his laughter and Alexander tried to push Lafayette's hand away, even going so far as to lick his palm, making him draw back in disgust before he wiped his hand across Mulligan's face in a last ditch effort to shut him up.

“I'm sorry.” Alexander laughed, though he did lower his voice. “I just can't help it. The war is over, John's coming home soon. We'll be together again!”

“Hamilton...”

“General Washington, sir.” Alexander grinned his lopsided grin up at his General. “And to what do we owe this honor?”

“I'm not here to celebrate, Alexander.” Washington's tone was soft. “Come outside with me foe a moment. We need to talk.”

“But, sir it's pouring!” He protested.

“Alexander this is important. Please. Follow me.” As Washington turned away, Alexander shot a questioning look at Lafayette and Mulligan who both shrugged before going back to their beers.

“Sir?” Alexander tried to stay out of the rain as best he could but the wind made it next to impossible.

“I received a letter today... One I had hoped I would never have to read...”

“I don't-” Alexander faltered.

“I'm so sorry...” Washington put a strong yet gentle hand on his aide's shoulder. “It's Laurens.” Alexander's eyes widened and he felt bile rising in his throat.

“No...” He choked, shaking his head. “Please... Please don't say it...”

“He died in a skirmish with some of the retreating British forces.”

 

Alexander felt the ground pitch under him and the color drained from his face. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and searched Washington's eyes for any sign of a lie.

“He. He can't be.” He gasped, his heart pounding in his chest so hard he swore his ribs would break. “No... You're lying to me. Or- or they got something wrong. It wasn't him! He's on his way home!” He was well aware that he was starting to shout but he didn't care. “He's on his way home! He promised me that he would come home!” Washington caught Alexander when he collapsed, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him tight to his chest even though he tried to push away. “He's coming home!! He promised!” Alexander sobbed into the General's shoulder, his whole body shaking from the effort of standing.

“I'm sorry son...” Washington whispered, rubbing his back gently. Alexander pushed away, his back hitting the wall of the bar.

“He promised...” He whispered, sliding down the wall, ignoring the rain and the mud and sitting with his head between his knees, tugging at his hair and staring at the ground.

“Alex get up... Please. Come on son...” Washington knelt down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Let's get you somewhere warm...” Alexander didn't move. A whimper started on his lips. I grew in volume until he was screaming. No words came out. For the first time in his life... Alexander Hamilton couldn't find words.

“Sir! What happened!?” Lafayette came bursting out of the bar, Mulligan, even Burr and a few others behind him, all of them staring at Alexander.

“Hamilton! Are you hurt? What happened?” Mulligan knelt in front of Alexander, putting his hands on his knees gently. “Sir, what happened to him?” Washington looked from Alexander to the men that had gathered around.

“Burr, I'll talk to you about this later. Get everyone inside.” Burr nodded, confused as he was, and started ushering the other men back into the bar. “Mulligan, Lafayette, help me get him up.”

"Alexander, _quel est le problème_?” Lafayette and Mulligan helped Alexander stand, Mulligan taking most of his weight. “General what did you say to him?” Lafayette snapped at Washington.

“I'll tell you once he's somewhere safe and warm.” Washington took up a position on Alexander's other side to keep him upright as they walked. His eyes were wide but unfocused, tears mingled with the rain on his cheeks and he looked like he was going to be sick.

“There's an inn just up the road. It's a nice enough place.” Mulligan grunted.

Alexander could hardly bring himself to pick up his feet. He tuned out the General and his two closest friends.

' _John is dead... John Laurens... My John Laurens is dead..._ ' The air was punched out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe. ' _John is dead... He's not coming home... John is dead... He's never coming to bed with me again... John is dead... I'll never hear his laugh again... John is dead... His freckles. John is dead. His smile. John is dead. John is dead. John is dead..._ '

“He's never coming home...” He whispered as the three people closest to him lead him into the inn, his voice hoarse. Washington procured a key from the man at the desk and led them all upstairs and unlocking a door down the hall.

“Here.” Lafayette went in first, pacing, wringing his hands as Mulligan and Washington helped Alexander into the room, and sat him down on the edge of the bed where he resumed running his hands through his hair and shaking.

“What has happened, General?” Lafayette turned to Washington, chewing on his lower lip, his eyebrows furrowed.

“John Laurens died last week in South Carolina.” Washington sat down at the desk in the room, hanging his head, suddenly looking much older than his years. A wail rose up from Alexander, who hunched down further, pulling his hair. Lafayette leaned against the wall and Mulligan pulled Alexander closer to his side, squeezing his shoulders and encouraging him to lay his head on his shoulder.

“ _Mon Dieu... Non..._ Are you sure? I mean... Have the absolutely confirmed that it was him?” Lafayette's voice shook. Washington nodded. “Alexander... _mon ami_...”

“He promised me he'd come back...” Alexander whispered. “He _promised_!” He was on his feet again, his rage fueling him. “This is _your_ fault!” He whipped around and stalked over to Washington. “ _You_ sent him to South Carolina! _You_ sent him to his death!” Washington looked up at his aide.

“Do you want to hit me, Alexander?” He sighed. Alexander was trembling, his fists clenched.

“You have no idea.” He breathed. “John Laurens... _My_ John Laurens is dead.” Alexander wilted again, his shoulders slumped. “He's dead and...” He was shaking like a leaf. He took a step towards Washington and Lafayette made a quick move, trying to grab him before his fist made contact with the General's jaw. Lafayette stopped short, covering his mouth.

“Alexander...” Mulligan stood slowly, reaching for him. “Come sit down. You need to rest.”

“Don't tell me what I need.” Alexander hissed out, slapping his friend's hand away. “I'm leaving...” He turned on his heel and made for the door.

“Son, sit down. Think for a minute.” Washington stood to block his way.

“Don't. Call. Me. Son.” Alexander's eyes were all fire, his shoulders squared and teeth clenched. “Don't follow me.” He pushed past the General, ignoring Lafayette and Mulligan calling after him.

“Alex, _attendez_! _S'il vous pla_ _î_ _t_!” There was a sob on Lafayette's voice. He had to ignore him. He had to.

 

Alexander headed back to the encampment, not paying any mind to the rain or anyone that tried to talk to him. He went straight for his tent. The tent he had shared with John. He froze at the foot of the cot and tried to catch his breath.

“Why did you go...” He whispered, his shoulders slumped and he moved slowly, packing his bag mechanichally. Reaching for the notebook on his desk a tear finally fell when he saw the letter he had just finished. It was tucked in an envelope, John's name written neatly on the front. He grabbed it and shoved it to the bottom of the bag.

“Hamilton? Where did you go earlier? What happened?” Alexander stood up straight and kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall of the tent.

“Not right now, Burr.” He sighed. “I can't... I can't do this right now.”

“Where do you think you're going?” Burr's hand rested on his shoulder and he stiffened. “You can't leave.”

“I'm not.” He lied. “I just need a night away from here... I'll be back tomorrow. I can't talk about this.”

“Alexander Hamilton, the man of a thousand words, has nothing to say?” Burr laughed.

“John's dead. He died in South Carolina. I need some time to think about this.” Burr's laugh died and he tightened his grip on Alexander's arm. “Don't tell Washington I was here. Or Mulligan or Lafayette. I'm just going away for a night. I don't want them to worry about me.”

“I don't think I can-”

“Burr, please. Just... Just do this one thing for me. Just do what you do best and say nothing.” Alexander snapped, yanking his arm away and grabbing his bag. “Talk less.” He mocked. “Smile more.”

 

Alexander didn't know where he was going. He was just walking, taking the quietest streets, heading out of town. When he finally looked up he was at the docks. The storm was kicking the waves high, bringing back memories of the islands. Memories of his mother. He went to the nearest Inn and gave the man at the counter a false name, dragging himself up the stairs to the room he had been given. Once he had locked himself in and sat down on the bed he started thinking. Thinking about John. Thinking about Washington. About the war and what all of this was for. He started thinking about what was going to happen when he went back, if he even wanted to go back. He couldn't bear the thought of how disappointed Washington was going to be, or the tears he would face from Lafayette. Mulligan would watch silently with those all seeing eyes, he wouldn't talk much but if he did, his words would be soft and wise. They were the best friends Alexander could ask for and he hated it. He didn't want to hear that they would be there for him. He didn't want to hear that he was loved and that he would get past this.

He wanted to run. And he didn't want to look back.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. And it didn't stay long. But between the moments where his brain shut down he decided on what he would do when the sun came up.

 

“I need you to have this delivered to General Washington.” Alexander handed an envelope to a boy collecting the mail from the Inn the next morning.

“Who should I tell him this is from sir?”

“He'll know who it's from.” He smiled and lifted his bag over his shoulder as another man clapped him on the back.

“Alright Mr. Laurens. Ship's leaving now. Better hurry.”

“Thank you.” Alexander took one last look back towards the encampment, watching the mail boy leave on his horse, and his chest tightened.

 

…

 

“General Washington, sir! Letter for you. The gentleman that gave it to me said it was important.” Washington looked up from the map spread out on his desk. Lafayette stood from the chair next to him.

“Thank you son.” He paid the boy and took the envelope, it was simple, his name scrawled across it in an all too familiar hand.

“General?” Lafayette's soft hand on his shoulder was the only thing that felt as he stared at the short letter in his hand. “George..?”

“He left.”

“Who left?”

“Alexander...”

 

_General Washington,_

 

_I regret to inform you that this is my resignation. Forgive me._

 

_A. Hamilton_

 

XOXO

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> Last time on “I Don't Have Your Name” - Alexander got the news of John Laurens' death and, as you can imagine, he didn't take that very well. Or man was last seen boarding a ship. “To where?” You ask? Well dear readers, let's find out.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> ((This is a very short chapter. I always think I've got more than I really do because I write everything out on paper first and it always comes out to like 10-15 pages but in a word doc it's only like... 2. Oh well. I write fast and keep things short. It's how I roll.))

XOXO

 

Alexander had forgotten how much he hated ships. The first two weeks on board he could barely stand up, let alone keep down a meal. He kept to himself as much as he could. He was quite recognizable as Washington's most favored aide, but luck seemed to be on his side. Going by the name “Jack Laurens” had helped. The one time he thought he had been found out, the name had gotten him a raised eyebrow, but then a shrug, and he had been left alone. A few people talked to him over the course of the journey, asking him where he was going, and what he was doing once he got there. The answer was always the same.

“London at first. From there, I don't know. Just traveling I guess.” He smiled at the woman who had asked him for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Laurens...” She mused. “That sounds familiar.”

“I hear that a lot Miss. It seems to be a very common name in the Colonies.”

“It must be. My name is Abigail Church, if you ever need a friend in London.” She smiled. When Abigail left, Alexander watched the waves and got lost in his thoughts. He wondered if he would see her in London, and, briefly, wondered how severe the punishment would be if he were found out by the other side. But he found that he didn't care much. Death would be preferable to the guilt rolling in his stomach. He tried not to think of Washington and how disappointed he would be. Tried not to think of Lafayette and Mulligan, they would be worried sick about him. And he tried especially hard not to think of Burr. He was the last person to see Alexander, and though he was a quiet man, if the General asked him for information, he would give it to him. Not that Burr knew where he was going, or even if he was alive. He assumed, and hoped, that he was presumed dead, no one would come looking for him then.

“Mr. Laurens!” Alexander jumped when one of the crewmen, the one that had helped him book passage back in New York (what was his name? David?) came up behind him. “We'll be docking in just a couple of days, provided the weather holds.” Whatever his name was, he was handsome, in a rugged kind of way. And he was always smiling. Alexander liked that.

“You think it'll hold?” He asked, leaning against the railing and looking out over the vast expanse of blue before them.

“I think so. The Captain isn't so sure though. Says our luck has been too good to last the whole trip.” David laughed, leaning on the railing next to Alexander, close enough that their shoulders touched. “He's a supersticious old goat though. I wouldn't take anything he says to heart.” Alexander glanced at the other man's hands out of the corner of his eye. There were several rings on his fingers.

“Are you married?” He asked casually.

“Afraid not. My first love is the sea and not many can compete with that. Yourself?”

“No.” Alexander shook his head. “Too invested in the war. There was someone I loved though.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died. Got sick a few months ago.”

“Is that why you left?” He nodded. “She must have been one hell of a woman if you're crossing the ocean to forget her Mr. Laurens.”

“Yeah...” David clapped him on the back and straightened up.

“I'll leave you to it then.” He offered a sympathetic smile and Alexander felt his gut roll with the weight of his lies.

…

 

Two long days later, when the ship pulled into port, Alexander could have kissed the ground he was so thankful to have under his feet. British soil be damned.

“Well Mr. Laurens.” Abigail had found him again. “I guess this is where I leave you.” She smiled. “If you ever need anything, look me up in London. I hope you find what you're looking for.”

“Thank you Miss Church. I'm sure I'll be in touch.” Another stomach churning lie. He tried to imagine a life with the beautiful blonde girl that had been so kind to him but found that he couldn't.

“Safe travels, Jack.” David extended a hand that Alexander shook gratefully.

“Same to you.” He smiled. Just as he went to pull away, David pulled him in.

“Be careful, Mr. Hamilton.” He whispered. Alexander froze.

“My name is-”

“Alexander Hamilton. I knew who you were back in New York. Keep your head down here. I heard whispers on the ship. You're a valuable man. I shut down a few men that wanted to turn you in. But out here, you're free game. I can't vouch for you anymore.” He backed away, worry written all over his usually smiling face.

“I'll be careful.” Alexander assured him. “Take care of yourself.” His heart was racing as he made his way through the crowds, away from the docks, cursing his luck. If he could make it to the countryside, he would be safe. Less eyes there. He would find a way to make a life for himself there. He briefly though of going to Abigail, but he knew that he couldn't put an innocent woman in danger like that. He had seen what British soldiers did to families that harbored people that they had deemed to be criminals. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Now he was paranoid. Every person was now a spy in his mind, every alleyway held danger. Too many faces looked familiar and hostile. Was he really _that_ recognizable? Had word of his talents really reached London?

“My, my. If it isn't Alexander Hamilton.” Alexander's blood ran cold. “I thought I had seen the last of you when you humiliated me in New York.”

“Mr. Seabury.” Alexander turned and smiled with false friendliness. “What a pleasant surprise. I was hoping to find a friendly face here in London.”

“Well you'll have to look a little harder then, Hamilton. Though I do think there's someone would very much like to make your acquaintance.”

 

XOXO

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where is Seabury going to take Alex?! Who narked on the ship?! Will I ever write a chapter that's more than 2,000 words?! Probably not... The answers to all of your questions... have probably been answered in the tags. But if not, they'll be answered in the next chapter. That's where it starts to get dirty. So. Keep an eye out for that.
> 
> As always, comments, kudos and bookmarks will earn you a gold star and my undying love.
> 
> Ever Yours,  
> Kay


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy smokes. Hi. Sorry it's taken so long to update. Welcome to chapter three of hell, brought to you by my lovely friend Sage. You better fuckin' appreciate this you monster...  
> We left off with Seabury finding Alex in London, yeah? Let's see what happens.
> 
> Enjoy!

XOXO

 

“So. Where are we going?” Alexander asked, trying to sound casual as he walked along behind Seabury, two soldiers following them closely.

“Keep your mouth shut.” Seabury snapped back at him. “You're a traitor to the crown and you need to be dealt with.

“Goodness. Testy.” Alexander rolled his eyes. “And here I thought we could be friends Sam. Put all that nastiness from New York behind us.” Samuel turned to face him, glaring, and stopping him in his tracks.

“I said, keep your mouth shut, Hamilton. God you're almost more trouble than you're worth. But I'm sure George would rather have you delivered alive.”

“George? As in _the King_? I don't think I've ever heard anyone call him by his first name.” Alexander smirked.

“His Highness and I are on very good terms.” Alex had to bite his tongue to keep from making a lewd comment. He figured he was in enough trouble as it was. “But if you speak again, His Highness will have to settle with me delivering your corpse Mr. Hamilton.” Alexander clenched his jaw and followed Seabury through the streets of London silently, always aware of the two soldiers behind him, wondering if he could slip into the crowd and run without being caught.

' _John would have been able to_.' He thought sourly, his heart clenching painfully in his chest.

“Pick up the pace.” One of the men behind him shoved the butt of his gun into his back and he glared over his shoulder at the both of them, grinding his teeth together when the gun didn't leave the middle of his back. Alexander had resigned himself to going along with Seabury quietly but he would be _damned_ if he was going to be treated like cattle. The sneer on the soldier's face kept him from opening his mouth though.

“While you are on there, you will address His Highness with respect.” Seabury ordered as they came to the gate surrounding the estate. “If you don't think you can do that, I urge you to hold your tongue. He is not a forgiving man.” Alexander bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, glaring at his captors.

' _I should have worn a hood. Something. Idiot._ ' He thought, digging his nails into his palms to keep his hands from shaking. Despite his bravado, he was terrified. He was on British soil now. Back in New York he could have said anything he wanted about the king and his men. And he would have had backup. He was painfully aware of how alone he was here. He had no help. He was sure Mulligan could get him out of here, if not by stealth then by brute force. Lafayette could charm _anyone_ long enough for Alexander to hightail it out of there, and leave them stunned enough to make his own escape. (This he knew for a fact. The two of them had played that trick on Washington enough times to have perfected the act.) And John... Well John would come barging in like he owned the place and fought tooth and nail to get his Alexander back. The reckless bastard...

Alexander was vaguely aware that Seabury was still talking, his voice echoing off of the stone walls, but he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. Probably prattling on about his manners and how _horrible_ the colonies were.

“Here.” Seabury stopped short in front of a large set of double doors. “You two. Stay here.” He ordered the two soldiers that had been following diligently. “And you.” He turned on Alexander. “Mind that clever tongue of yours.” Alexander smirked but offered no comment, squaring his shoulders defiantly and buttoning his coat with practiced ease. Samuel rolled his eyes and pushed open the doors, walking in confidently, Alexander matching his stride. “Your Highness.” He offered a short bow, catching George's attention, and pulling him away from the conversation he was in the middle of.

“Sam!” George's eyes lit up. “I was wondering where you'd run off to. I- Who's this?” He had taken notice of Alexander, standing just a few paces behind Seabury.

“A traitor to your crown.” Samuel spat out. Alexander's heart was hammering in his chest and he felt his skin crawl when George looked him over, his gaze hard.

“And does this traitor have a name, Samuel?” Seabury looked back at Alexander expectantly. “Well?”

“Alexander, sir.” He muttered.

“'Alexander' what?” Seabury prompted, giving him a look.

“Hamilton.” Alexander stood a little straighter and held eye contact with the King. He waited, holding his breath, for George to give an order to have him taken away, but he just stared, eyes wide, back straight.

“You're... Everybody out.” He ordered. “I want to speak to this one alone.”

“But, sir-” Seabury started.

“I said 'out', Sam. I'm sure I'll be just fine.” Samuel muttered but left with the guards and servants that had been standing around the room, glancing once over his shoulder. Once the doors had closed George stood and Alexander fought to swallow the lump in his throat as he came closer.

“I come with no ill will.” He muttered, looking down at his boots. “In fact I just came seeking the country side.”

“So _you're_ Washington's little lap dog? You are _delightful_!” George circled around behind Alexander running his fingertips along his shoulders making him shiver. “My God, you are _exquisite_. I can see why your General speaks so highly of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don't think my men have intercepted letters? Oh, I know _all_ about you, Mr. Hamilton. Brilliant. Smart as a whip. And I know you're in love.” Alexander's stomach flipped and his face paled. “I wonder though. Why would you leave your dear Laurens behind?” George stood behind him, running his hands up and down his arms softly.

“He's dead.” Alexander choked out before he could stop himself.

“Poor thing...” He shivered with the King's breath on his ear. “And I'm sure your General Washington won't feel for you the same way your lovely John did will he?”

“What do you want?” Alexander spat, keeping his eyes on the floor as George circled around to stand in front of him.

“I have an offer to make you, my pretty Alexander, and I know you won't be able to refuse.” George put a hand on the side of Alexander's neck, his thumb caressing his jaw softly, and tilted his face up to look into his eyes. “I know how frustrated you are. Unappreciated by your dear General, nothing but a right hand. All you do is write for him. Poor thing... Your talents have gone unnoticed haven't they?” Alexander looked into George's eyes then looked away quickly, his stomach churning. He was right. Why did this smug bastard have to be right? “I can give you everything Washington can't.”

“Like what? What could you possibly have to offer me?”

“Everything!” George looked absolutely gleeful. “Anything you could ever want. Love, money, power, a family. A legacy.” He whispered in Alexander's ear. “The one thing you want most. You will be remembered forever.”

“For what?”

“For being my love, maybe even my successor. For being brave enough to leave those wretched colonies behind. You'll be the man that crushed the Revolution.” He leaned in closer and Alexander fought to stand still. “You'll be the man that killed George Washington.” Alexander didn't have time to process those words before George's lips were pressed against his, one of his hands tangled in his hair tight, keeping him still.

It took longer than he cared to admit to get enough feeling in his arms to put his hands against George's chest to push him away.

“What in the name of God are you doing!?” He shouted, backing up a pace before his wrist was grabbed. “Let me go!” He demanded, trying to yank his arm away. George tugged him back in with surprising strength.

“I'm giving you a choice here Hamilton. You can stay, be mine and do as you're told, you're good at following orders aren't you?” George smirked. “Or you die tonight. There is no middle ground here. You're too valuable to let out into the world without a leash. And I would rather not waste your... _talents_.” He ran his thumb over Alexander's lip and smiled, keeping his iron grip on his wrist. “So just save me the guilt of killing you and have Samuel show you to your room.”

“Were you expecting me?”

“But of course. I have spies everywhere. Now be a good boy, and make yourself at home.” George backed away to sit down again, smiling, and whistled. The doors opened immediately and Samuel and the two guards came back in.

“Yes sir?”

“Please take Alexander to the room I had prepared for him. He's agreed to stay with us for a while. Isn't that right Alex?” He smiled. Alexander saw Sam clench his jaw but he gave a bow and took his arm anyway, tugging him along.

“Come on.”

“Be gentle with him, Sam!” George called after them. “I wouldn't want him to break yet.”

 

…

 

This time, as they walked Seabury was silent. If Alexander didn't know any better, he would say he was sulking. Well... pouting would probably be a better word for it.

“Mad that he didn't kill me, Seabury?” Sam shot him a glare. “Well join the club.” He rolled his eyes.

“You aren't special, Hamilton.” Samuel snapped, pushing open another door. “He's tried this before. You'll fail him. He'll be disappointed in you, then he'll have you killed. I've seen this plan dozens of times. You're just a pawn and you'll be treated like one.

“You sound jealous, Seabury. Are you angry that _you_ couldn't finish the job for him?” Alexander snapped. He didn't miss the look of hatred he got before the door slammed in his face.

 

…

 

Alexander didn't sleep that night. He didn't want to. And even if he did, it was too cold, and every footstep outside his door filled him with dread. Usually they passed on, but every now and then, the footsteps would stop, and he would hold his breath, waiting for the door to open. It felt like whoever was on the other side was holding their breath too, just standing there with their hand poised to either knock or open the door.

Hours ticked by. Footsteps paced outside. And Alexander lit another candle before turning his tired eyes back to the papers on his desk. The room had been furnished well, he couldn't deny that. He felt more like an honored guest than a prisoner. The bed was soft, the blankets warm, he had been provided with a desk and more paper than he knew what to do with. He shook his head with an aggravated sigh. George had planned this. He knew Alexander would stay. Why else would he waste his time putting together a room for him? His mind wandered to the journey over. David had said that he covered for him, so he wondered if anyone had even believed him. Someone had to have sent word a head. Unless this was all just left over from the last person he had tried to send back to the colonies. Both thoughts made him shiver, but he wrote them down anyway.

' _God... John... You must think I'm an idiot for doing this... I'm so sorry. But I have a feeling I'll be with you soon enough if things don't go well my beloved._

_Your's always,_

_A. Hamilton_ '

 

He tucked the letter away carefully, praying that if he didn't have time to get rid of it, that it would at least stay hidden, and that time would take it from the world. He had become so engrossed in his writing that his didn't notice the footsteps coming to his door and jumped when whoever was on the other side knocked. He hurried to shove the papers into a drawer.

“Come in?” He called, hating the way his voice shook.

“I was expecting you to be asleep by now Alexander.” George stepped into the room, a robe tucked around him and a lantern in one hand.

“Then why did you knock?” Alexander raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I do have manners. I couldn't just come barging in here could I?”

“If you thought I was asleep, why did you come at all?”

“I know you hate me.”

“I never said that.” Alexander turned his back to George, re-stacking his unused paper carefully.

“You didn't have to.” George rested a cold hand on his shoulder. “I want you to be happy here Alexander.” His voice was almost too sweet. “I want to give you everything you've ever wanted. And I ask for so little in return.”

“You're asking me to kill the man who I looked up to as a father! How is that 'little'?” Alexander spat. “You're asking me to kill someone that I love!” George took a step back, looking like he'd been slapped. Alexander guessed that no one had ever raised their voice to him. And if they had, he was sure they were long dead.

“I know you're upset. You wouldn't have come all the way across the sea looking for a way out if you weren't. I'm _offering_ you a way out. A way out of your pain, a way into history.'

“I don't want your way out. And to be quite honest I'm not even sure I want to be remembered anymore...”

“We both know that's not true Alexander.” George took a seat on the edge of the bed and watched him carefully. “Write something for me.”

“What?”

“I want you to write for me. How does that sound? You can just stay there and write. I know you love it. And you'll be praised and rewarded for your work here. Not like in New York, I won't make you go back.” He reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from Alexander's eyes. “What do you say?”

“I... I don't believe you.”

“You what?” George gripped his shoulder tight.

“I don't believe that you would be content to just let me write after you literally just asked me to murder a man.” Alexander scoffed, shrugging off the hand on his shoulder and getting up from the desk to cross the room. “You don't strike me as a man who is satisfied with less than he asked for.”

“I'm not... But for my pretty Alexander I could be.”

“I'm not ' _your_ ' anything.”

“Oh but you are.” Alexander stood up straighter when George gripped his arms tight, pinning them to his sides. “Here you are, in _my_ country, in _my_ home. I. _Own_. You.” He gasped as George bit at his neck.

“Let go.” He demanded.

“I don't think so.” The King's grip tightened and he pressed Alexander forward until his chest was flush with the wall. “You're a soldier aren't you, Alexander? You're good at following orders?” Alex huffed and tired to push back against George, trying to elbow him away but he held tight. “Come on now. Don't fight me. Why don't you show me how good you can be? Show me how well you follow orders, hmm?”

“Get off!”

“Oh I fully intend to. And you're going to help me aren't you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“You heard me, _Your Highness_. I said no. I'll stay here until you decide to get rid of me but I'm not doing _anything_ for you.”

“You know. Samuel told me that you had a clever mouth. I'm eager to see how right he was.”

“Seabury's pretty clever himself, why don't you visit _him_ in the middle of the night?”

“Who says I haven't?” Alexander felt the unmistakable press of an erection against his hip and tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. “Now. I'm going to tell you _exactly_ what to do. And if you don't, my servants will be cleaning your blood off of these floors and burying your body in a shallow grave in my garden by morning. Do you understand me, Alexander?” George spoke as casually as if he were making small talk about the weather and Alexander was almost certain that he would be able to hear his heart pounding against his ribs. “You don't want to die like that do you?”

“No...”

“No what? George's grip on his arms tightened.

“No sir...” Alexander choked out, looking down.

“Very good. That's very good Alexander.” George smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Just do as I say and you'll be fine. You might even be rewarded if you do a good job.”

“How many have failed you?” He asked cautiously.

“That's not important. I know you wont fail me. You'll be good for me.” For as soft as his hands were, Alexander could feel the strength in the King's grasp. This was not a man he could fight. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't think that he would _want_ to. George was about a head taller than he was, his shoulders were wider and he hadn't been starved by war.

“What do you want me to do...?”

“I want you to get on your knees. Can you do that for me?” His hands were already pressing on Alexander's shoulders, he didn't really have a choice.

“Yes sir...” Alexander sunk to his knees slowly, keeping his eyes on the floor. George tipped his chin up and grinned down at him.

“That's it. Very good. Now open.” He gripped Alexander's jaw hard and pulled his mouth open, running his thumb over his lip. “You're so pretty like this. Down on your knees.” He tugged on Alexander's hair, pulling his head back and drawing a sharp gasp from him. “Oh? You like that?” Alexander flushed, his cheeks and ears turning red, and he looked away. “Answer me Alexander.”

“Y-yes sir...”

“Oh, that is so lovely to know.” George tugged his hair again, harder this time, and he moaned. “So lovely.” Alexander looked away as George pulled his cock out and stroked himself lazily. “Keep your pretty mouth open for me. Eyes too.”

And Alexander obeyed, letting George push his cock past his lips and down his throat, squeezing his eyes shut when he gagged.

' _I'm sorry John... I'm so sorry..._ ' He felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and fought to hold them back when George came down his throat. ' _Please forgive me..._ '

 

XOXO

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY-O! Thanks so much for hanging around and waiting for this to update. I got sucked into writing Hold Me Down for a while and this got nudged over to the back burner.  
> I'll try to make more time for this, I promise. I really do enjoy writing it and it's going in a pretty neat direction.
> 
> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are more than welcome and they literally keep me alive. So please do those things.
> 
> Much Love,  
> Alex

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it. Poor Alex has a lot coming to him.
> 
> As always, comments, kudos and bookmarks will earn you my undying love.
> 
> See you in the next chapter  
> Kay


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